Experiences
by corporalrivaille
Summary: Every college experience involves something forbidden. And the Artful Roger is no exception to that rule.
1. Chapter 1

Every college experience involves something forbidden. Drinking underage, cheating on assignments, skipping a few lectures and the occasional weed brownie was all expected. It was not college unless you messed up, disastrously.

Now, I accepted that being the shy, awkward, artistic kid that only cared about what he drew wouldn't work around here. I shared my dorm room with two guys – Duck Zhang (as quiet as I was but mostly because being high made him lazy, hungry and not much else) and Quinn Gaither (who was one of those students that knew everyone, even on the first day.) Quinn was best friends with Sam Temple, the authority within the students but the host of all, despite seeming like he didn't want the job. Most people blamed his hot girlfriend, who I only knew was hot because everyone called her that and not because I actually saw her until the first party I attended mid-semester (she was gorgeous, in the blonde-haired, blue-eyed way and even asked me if we were long lost twins.) According to Quinn, Astrid Ellison liked to maintain a rebellious image every once in a while, to break out of the science labs she flourished in and prove to her parents that there was more to life than God and 'doing the right and holy thing.' Being pretty oblivious about religion myself, I didn't care, which was exactly what I told Quinn when he tried to drag me to the mid-semester party of the – wait for it – semester.

"Seriously, Roger, dude," Quinn told me, as he pulled on a T-shirt with some band on it that I was one hundred per cent sure he didn't even listen to. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and continued with my project. "This party is something that you can't afford to miss."

"You said that last time," I said, without looking up. My fine art project focused on people but I didn't want to draw Quinn, as toned as he was from surfing. As level-headed as he appeared, I didn't think he'd appreciate me using him as a life model, nor did I want to endure the experience.

Duck was out of the question. I would've rather gone to a dozen of Sam's mid-semester parties than ask the philosophy student to strip so I could draw him.

Quinn has stopped styling his hair to give me an exasperated look, which I saw on the mirror rather than him. I lifted my pencil, as if I had an idea, and said, "Let me correct that. I meant, the last _twenty_ times."

"You're a loser."

"Says the guy who fishes for fun." This was Duck, calling from the bathroom. He was probably on the toilet and we had gotten used to having conversations whilst peeing. The number two, however, was a no-go zone. The whole dorm atmosphere was a bunch of boys having a sleepover but with deadlines and an overdose of Quinn's aftershave.

"Fuck yourself, Zhang."

"I can't do that when you're both in the room."

I met Quinn's eyes and we both pulled horrified faces. Our relationship wasn't strong enough to talk about alone time, it seemed.

"All the more reason for you to get the hell out of here, Roger," Quinn hissed and we both laughed.

Once he was done making himself look like Mr America, he sat down on my bed, watching me sketch out people from photographs, from other art. When we first met, he thought painting was the most pointless thing in the world but he respected me.

_Would he respect you if he knew, Roger? _I had thought, when he asked me again to join him at Sam's private accommodation. His eyes were cheery, his mood so uplifting I had to put my pencil down. I wanted to say no but I already felt a string of unsaid insults come to mind at my refusal to be like every other student. _Loser. Loner. Prude. Faggot_.

It was all the more the reason to say no, to stay away from a scene where I couldn't be myself. Instead, I sighed and called for Duck to quicken his bowel movements. Quinn gave me one of those awkward 'bro' hugs, in celebration. I patted his back, knowing that the hug wouldn't exist if I had been truthful, from the start.

I had kept it quiet for so long, I figured another year or two wouldn't be too difficult. How hard could a secret so close to your heart be?

I met Edilio Escobar that night.

Edilio looked as out of the party as I did, perhaps why I noticed him. Or maybe it was the fact that he was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that made me regret leaving my sketchbook at home. The kind of beautiful that drawing did not do justice but I would draw anyway. The lights of the living room were too bright in spaces, too dim in others. He stood, unsurprisingly, distanced from the bright, allowing the dimness to catch shadows on his face and form, as people bustled around him, often calling out his name in drunken, sing-song voices but never stopping. His hair was dark, wavy and long, making my fingers itch with the urge to run my hands through the curls, and the lower half of his face just a tad darker with stubble. He wore a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a plaid jacket, even though the heat of the crowds in the living room was sweltering enough for me to remove my own corduroy jacket. I didn't believe in God but part of me believed in fate and, if Sam hadn't stopped next to him, I would have seized the only courage I'd ever felt to talk to the perfect but lonely boy.

Instead, I looked around for anyone I knew (which wasn't successful) then slipped into my own corner, fiddling with my phone and wondering if Quinn would kill me if I left as soon as I got here.

But when a dance track that had everyone jumping enough to make the house shake started, I figured I didn't care if Quinn would dunk my head into our room's toilet without letting Duck flush first. I shuddered at the idea but, nonetheless, began elbowing through the crowd in search for the front door.

Fate was funny. I reached the only exit I knew just as Edilio did. I didn't notice him because there was a couple pressed against my ticket out of the stuffy house and horribly loud music. I cleared my throat and caught the attention of Edilio, whilst the drunk couple continued doing whatever drunk people did with their mouths and bodies glued together.

"Hey."

Stupidly, I jumped. Edilio didn't smile when I looked at him, his eyes on the couple, giving the impression he hadn't spoke at all, even though everyone else but us and the couple were scattered around the house. Regardless, I searched the hallway for anyone else who could be the holder of a voice so warm and low. Feeling even more like an idiot, I stared at Edilio again, waiting for him to speak.

"They're not going to move, y'know?" He wasn't whispering but he may as well have been, with the party being so loud and him being so calm. My palms felt sweaty. He still didn't look at me. "Do you think if I prod them with a stick they'll react?"

I laughed, nervously but genuinely. Edilio finally regarded me, with eyes and smile that felt like melted chocolate. Hot, delicious. I had never wanted to kiss a stranger so bad.

"You still want to get out of here?" He tilted his head in a gesture towards the source of noise. I nodded, too enthusiastically, afraid to speak. Edilio sounded nothing if not completely sure of himself. "There's another way out."

"Back door?" These were my first words to Edilio Escobar.

"I feel like," he said, giving the couple a withering glance, "that circumstances there wouldn't be much different from here. Perhaps more graphical."

"Do it your way." I shrugged, like it was no big deal. _Be like Duck, be like Duck, be like Duck Zhang_. I dug my hands in my pockets for good measure.

Edilio just looked at my face the nodded once. "Come on."

I followed him, through crowds of people that made it difficult to see but not difficult to see him. He stuck out, with his sure stride, his likable nature that made multiple people throw their arms over his shoulders in greeting, the way he shook them off with a gentleness they probably didn't deserve and the fact that I followed him like a lost puppy. It didn't take long for me to work out that Edilio was loved. I wanted to know why.

_Don't do this at home, kids. If a cute guy tries to take you into the main bedroom at a frat party then politely decline and, if that doesn't work, kick him in the crotch and run._

I could almost hear my mum crying when I followed a hesitant Edilio into what I assumed was Sam's bedroom. It was dark and the light wouldn't turn on. He was looking around carefully, quietly, but not for a lamp. "Coast clear," he said softly. Then he looked at me properly with the kind of smile that made butterflies have butterflies. I felt like throwing up. "Just making sure there wasn't a couple here either."

I nodded. I was making this awkward but the courage I once felt at the sight of Edilio was gone. I couldn't talk to this guy. I couldn't make conversation with anyone cooler than Quinn (and Quinn fished and fell asleep in the shower so it wasn't like he was _actually_ cool.) But here Edilio was, tall, dark and handsome and the dark bedroom and the stubble wasn't helping.

But I wasn't so distracted by how much I wanted to kiss him to realise that a bedroom wasn't an exit. I felt typical nerves rather than fears. I couldn't see how anyone could fear someone like Edilio.

"This isn't a way out," I commented.

I thought Edilio rolled his eyes. "Patience, grasshopper." He went over to the drawn curtains and started pulling them open. French doors. Sam was loaded. "Ta-da!"

"Doors."

If you could fall over with exasperation, Edilio would have done. He even turned and mimed slamming his head on the door.

I crept closer. "Balcony, then."

Now, his head was just leaning on the cold glass. I reached out to touch it (the door, not his head, unfortunately.) He side-eyed me but he didn't look seriously mad at my bluntness. In fact, he looked like he was _teasing_ me.

Could blood glow in the dark if your blush was strong enough? I hoped not.

Edilio fumbled for a moment before, proudly, throwing the French doors open. The balcony wasn't something to be proud of (small, empty and cold) but Edilio grinned and he just kept looking more and more beautiful. The moon made his skin lighter and the wind ruffled his hair for me. I decided I liked the balcony.

"To your right," he said, gesturing with his hand. I felt his knuckle gently touch my arm. His hands were strong, the kind that knew how to defend themselves, but he touched how he talked, gently, calmly.

I looked where he told me. "I see a wall."

"You would." He definitely rolled his eyes at that. "Look harder."

I squinted at him, exaggerating the movement, before swinging back to peer at the wall. "Still a wall."

"Oh, hell." It wasn't even a curse but I swallowed like it was. I felt his hand curl over my upper arm and his body's warmth a little nearer than normal. "Yes, walls, bricks, cement, I've sat in enough lectures to know that."

"You major in architecture?" His voice was at my ear so I didn't need to speak over a whisper. It was quiet out here, the music a distant sound of thumps.

"Civil engineering," he corrected. "You? Unless you're one of those high schoolers that manage to sneak into parties before realising you're way out of your depth?"

I ignored his first question. "Do I _look_ like a high schooler?"

Part of me felt a little hurt by his accusation. I had actually _tried_ (a little) for this party where I had successfully avoided all but one person, who was now telling me I didn't belong, not because I was awkward but because I was awkward _looking_. It didn't help that he was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. And he was bruising my ego.

"High schooler?" He laughed and it was as beautiful as the rest of him. I was getting tired of being around someone so wonderfully put together. I didn't like questioning my atheism with people that existed in perfect synchronisation with what I imagined nature should have once been. A college party was not where I wanted to question the design argument, though I considered asking Duck about some of this stuff.

He didn't even answer but it didn't sound like he thought so. I shifted uncomfortably, aware of his chin so close to my shoulder and his other hand on my back. "What am I looking for then?"

"Oh, yeah." He cleared his throat. "Pipe. Right there."

I still didn't understand so I said the words that first came to mind. "Uh, water? Drain? Sewage?"

"Idiot," he replied flatly.

I smiled. Edilio sighed. "That's our exit."

"The sewage?"

"No, the pipe, you smartass."

It clicked. I stepped away from the pipe and into Edilio's chest. He caught my shoulders by reflex and I turned to shake my head at him. It seemed that reality was right. No one _that_ beautiful could be sane.

"I've done it before," he said defensively.

"You're crazy."

"I prefer the term flexible."

_Crazy_. I think I said it out loud. He swiftly moved past me to the edge of the balcony nearest to the pipe.

"It's only one-storey."

"That's not enough to kill me but break bones."

"Exactly!" He grinned cheerfully. It was less beautiful when one foot was balanced on the balcony rail. He was crazy but I didn't want him to die.

"Don't," I called out. "Seriously."

His smile fell but at least he didn't. He lowered his foot (after giving me an impressive amount of leg in jeans that were questionably tight.) There must have been a true look of panic on my face because he started for me slowly, like I was a wild animal. "Hey-"

"I'm fine." I sounded harsh but maybe I just sounded scared. "Don't talk to me like- like I'm the weird one for not wanting you to fall and break your neck."

Edilio watched me for a moment then lowered his outstretched arm. "Okay," he said and it wasn't condescending. He sighed and played with the buttons of his jacket. "I'm not kidding, y'know? I've climbed down a pipe before. Easier than it looks."

I didn't answer. He looked at me with eyes that were too serious to be insane. "I'll go first. I'll even catch you if you're so worried."

"Why should I trust you?"

He looked confused. "I'm Edilio Escobar."

Up until that moment, I hadn't realised that I knew his name but he didn't know mine.

_Better late than never. _"Yeah and I'm Roger."

He stilled visibly, eyes wide. "The Artful Roger?"

Butterflies weren't just in my stomach but in my chest, hands and throat. Cool, popular Edilio Escobar – part of Sam Temple's inner circle and voted most presidential on campus – knew the nickname of the shy painter boy.

I nodded once and felt butterflies in my brain. If nothing else, the situation was bringing upon artistic inspiration.

Edilio leaned back on the railing, disbelief evident on his face. "_You're_ the guy who did the murals? And the tribute to the founder? And- oh, yeah! You painted the banners for the homecoming dance."

I winced, remembering every single faulty line and incorrect brushstroke. "And for the basketball finals."

"Wow." Edilio tilted his head as he stared at me.

"Disappointed?" There was a slight hitch in my voice, betrayed my nervousness.

He shook his head. "Surprised. I expected you to be older and not…"

"Not what?"

Edilio smiled and I saw what everyone who loved him saw in him: goodness. "A piece of art yourself."

I decided to give him the smooth response possible by blushing and saying, "_Huh?_"

He laughed, not unkindly. "You know, a stereotype. Assuming you make art that good is like assuming you have no life so you have the time to make art that good. Besides, it's an unspoken rule of life. You can't be talented and beautiful."

_Edilio Escobar just called me beautiful_. "I'm not- I am _not_ beautiful!"

"Shit, are you one of those guys that doesn't like that word?" Edilio laughed again and maybe my inexperience with people made me feel like the gap between the cool guy and the no-life boy was far too great to cross in one night, if ever.

"No," I said and it came out sharp. I moved towards the French doors. "I don't like being mocked. And I need to go."

"Need?" Edilio was quick, I'd give him that. I was only a single step back into Sam's bedroom before a firm grip stopped me. His skin was warm on my wrist, despite it being chilly outside. I had no choice but to look at him. "Or have you just got the wrong idea out of my compliment and picked flight over flight?"

He was right – I wanted to believe that he genuinely thought I was beautiful and it was so pathetic that I had to get away before I told him that I thought he was beautiful too. Instead, I got mad. "I came here with a friend so I _need_ to go find him."

"Okay, no compliments. It's clearly making you uncomfortable," he muttered before lifting his eyes again. They were apologetic. "I'm sorry."

I relaxed and his grip loosened. I looked down at his hand and he noticed, snatching it away as if my skin stung. I stepped back awkwardly and replied, "It's okay. I'm just-"

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate and when I laughed, so did he.

Softly, I said, "I really do need to go find Quinn though."

"Gaither." Edilio revealed no emotion but I got the feeling he wasn't a fan of my roommate, despite being in the same friendship group.

"You don't like him?" The thought made me sad, as if Edilio was more than just an acquaintance and I wanted Quinn's approval of him.

Edilio smiled and ruffled my hair. My jaw dropped. _He thinks I'm a dog._ _A _dog. "Nah, me and Quinn are cool. We went to high school together. Me, him, Sam and Astrid."

"Friends forever."

Edilio snorted. "Until they're drunk. Then I may as well be non-existent."

Finally, it clicked. Edilio wasn't talking to me because he liked me (especially not before finding out I was _the_ art student.) He was _lonely_. I should have been insulted but it just made me sad.

"Do you need a heart-to-heart?" I said lightly.

Edilio raised his eyebrows then turned to close the balcony doors. When he turned, his eyes were narrowed, sweeping the room as if searching for something.

"What-" He cut me off when he hurried past. It looked like he was making a break for it, like he'd finally reached his limit within my company and needed to get the hell out of here.

The door didn't open though. He pulled at the handle with a tight grip that made me wish his jacket (and his shirt) were off so I could see the flexing of his muscles but the door remained shut. Locked.

I gulped. "No way out, no way in."

Fate was giving me a second chance. We were stuck here together.


	2. Chapter 2

Edilio looked at me and if it wasn't for how open I was – how innocent I clearly had to be to follow a stranger into another stranger's bedroom – he would have accused me. He didn't but dropped his hand from the door and sighed, the other hand running through his hair that made me swallow again.

"Who would lock it?" I whispered. The sight of his eyes closed and his jaw clenched lit the butterflies in the pit of my stomach on fire but there was something else in the stiffness of his stature that made me wonder how often Edilio was left frustrated and tired, cleaning up the mess of drunk partygoers and getting nothing in return.

"I don't know." He opened his eyes and turned towards me. "Look around for a spare key. Try the bedside table? Damn it, I should have known there was a reason it was empty in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

He regarded me thoughtfully, hands still moving over Sam's junk littered desk. "You really don't party often, do you?"

"No," I admitted, carefully searching a pile of papers but coming out empty. "Not at all, really."

"Well, let me tell you something, Artful Roger," he said, without judgement. "When people go into bedrooms at a party that surpasses pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and bowls of jelly then there's only two reasonable reasons. One – they pass out drunk, probably after throwing up on it. And two?"

"To find an escape route from puking drunks?" I said weakly.

He met my eyes levelly, face void of expression. "Sex."

Funnily enough, I found a box of condoms in the top drawer I was searching. I quickly threw them back in the drawer and shut it with my knee.

Edilio continued talking and searching, "Obviously Sam doesn't want his bedroom trashed, if anything, so he locks it. I told him not to lock it today specifically because I didn't want to be at this damn party in the first place."

"Why is it locked then? Did Sam forget you asked and come back and lock it? Or a drunk came by and-"

"I don't know – and there's no stupid key. _Great_." Edilio turned away from the desk to grab a pillow at the head of the double bed but threw it down when there was no magical key under it. "I would search the rest of the bed but Sam isn't the cleanest guy and I _really_ don't want to see whatever him and Astrid get up to in their free time."

I shuddered at the thought. "Thanks for implying it anyway. Can't you just ring Sam and tell him to come unlock the door?"

Edilio waved the iPhone in his hand. "Already done."

"Well, then, we'll be out soon."

He chuckled quietly. "You're so obviously inexperienced, Roger. Sam has a whole room of drunks to manage downstairs. How often do you think he'll check his texts when there are idiots down there attempting to pee in his blender?"

"Point taken."

Edilio sighed and dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside him. "Come on. We've probably got a long wait."

I sat down gingerly and felt too close. His arm and leg brushed mine. He didn't react and we sat in a tense silence for five minutes until I grabbed my own phone.

"What are you doing?" He was so near that looking at him felt like staring into a bright light.

I blinked a few times to clear my vision and my thoughts. "Calling Quinn."

"Hopeless." He shook his head.

"What did Quinn even do to you?" I sounded defensive, which I suppose I was a little bit.

Edilio's expression darkened slightly. "We're friends. Why? Has he said anything about me?"

I shook my head as I pressed my phone to my ear. It rang a couple of times but no one answered. Edilio reached out to push my wrist away from my head. "Forget it. He's probably with Lana."

"Lana?" I repeated.

"Arwen Lazar. Quinn has been chasing her since she joined senior year. She's smarter than to just let him think he's God's gift on campus though." Edilio snorted. "He's up against the nicest guy on campus. He actually won the award for it."

"Sanjit Brattle-Chance? The famous couple's adopted son, right?"

"He'll be the one peeing in Sam's blender," he said dryly.

"That could be taken the wrong way," I muttered.

Edilio stared at me for a moment and I panicked in case _he_ took that the wrong way. Then he grinned and leant back on his palms. His hand was far too close to my butt for comfort. "Sanjit sometimes stays here. He rooms with Zil Sperry and some bonehead friend of his so I can see why he wants to escape."

There was something wistful in his tone, as if he was the same. I asked him that.

"You're pretty observant, you know that Roger?" He smiled again, gentler this time.

"I'm an artist."

He didn't question it. "I'm a scholarship student, Artful Roger. I'm not as nice as Sanjit; I would buy myself out of my roommates if I could. Albert Hillsborough and Computer Jack aren't the best company but we're all here because of our brains and not our pockets."

"Why don't you live with Sam?" I blurted out, before realising how rude the question was. It was none of my business.

"And listen to him and Astrid have sex through the walls?" He raised an eyebrow. "I would rather-"

"Die."

"Not that far," Edilio said softly, as he sat up again. His hand was cool against my inner arm, barely there. "No dying on me, Artful Roger."

"I'm not going to die?" If I wasn't so confused, I would have sounded reassuring.

He nodded, as if my answer was the right one, then said, "I can't just live here and not pay rent or groceries or something. It's wrong."

"He's your best friend," I argued.

"If that's the deal then Quinn wouldn't be bunking with you guys," he said, sounding bitter. Maybe he was bitter or maybe it was just my ignorance in reading people beyond paint strokes that made me think he was bitter.

"That's what I mean," I murmured.

"Hm?"

"_That_." I forced myself not to shy away from his questioning gaze. "You say you don't have a problem with Quinn yet it kinda sounds like you do."

"Maybe I'm tired of being second best."

I wasn't brave enough to reach out and touch his face, his mouth. I could only look at him with open eyes, hoping that, right now, he knew he was first to me.

I assumed he saw it in my eyes. I couldn't think of any other reason as to why Edilio Escobar would kiss me.

His lips didn't taste of alcohol or anything at all. He hadn't ate for a while and I was filled with dumb thoughts like why he would skip a meal and if it had something to do with possible urinating in the kitchen downstairs, which wasn't the best thing to concentrate on when a beautiful boy was kissing you. But it was like my mind was buzzing with thoughts all at once. I was thinking about his breath and mine and the feel of his stubble against my chin and the way his lips were a little rough, like he didn't moisturize them enough and his hand, which was still on my arm, was smooth and firm, as if he expected me to dart away or punch him. And then it occurred to me that Edilio was not meant to be kissing another boy and I stilled. He moved back robotically, blinking as if I were the one who'd put my lips to his.

"You're gay," he said, taking the words right out of my mouth. It wasn't a question, which wouldn't have made sense anyway. What straight guy lets another guy kiss him in a dark room with only the moon filtering light on top of their (almost) linked hands?

"Never claimed otherwise." I shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal, as if I couldn't feel my own heartbeat thrumming panic in my mind. It was ridiculous to worry about his reaction when _he_ had been the one to kiss me. How many homophobic guys went around kissing other guys anyway? He wouldn't hate me or tell anyone, if I asked nicely (but I suppose that had more to do with the fact that he kissed me and I doubted any straight guy would want the world to know he was making out with another supposed straight guy.)

That wasn't it though. I had kept my sexuality a secret from those on campus with the intention of never revealing it. All it took was one kiss to shatter that resolve and I hadn't even initiated it in the first place.

Edilio's eyes were wide with disbelief and it was a little disorientating. He didn't look like the kinda guy who was fazed easy. "You're _gay_."

"Yes," I said and I guessed I sounded a little annoyed. I cleared my throat. "I'm gay, Edilio Escobar. I'm homosexual and _you_ just kissed me. You could explain that?"

"Explain?" Edilio was looking more and more confused as the seconds passed.

"Yeah."

"Why does anyone kiss anyone? I felt like it?"

"So you go around kissing guys whenever you feel like it?" It sounded like an accusation. The butterflies in my stomach were now making me feel sick. I knew that being played by a straight guy was in the books of every gay college boy but this was Edilio and my mind was chanting _no, no, no_ in the rhythm of my heart.

Edilio shook his head. "Not what I meant. I mean… Roger, I like you? I wanted to kiss you?"

"But _why_?" I demanded. I tried to pull away but he took hold of my hand, lacing our fingers tight but not enough to hurt me. I stared down at the connection between my body and his. My voice came out shaky and maybe an octave higher than normal. "This isn't normal heterosexual behaviour!"

"Heterosexual? But I thought you were gay?"

"I am gay!" I didn't mean to shout but frustration got the better off me. "I'm talking about you!"

"I'm straight?" Edilio's mouth was open in surprise. I tried not to think of how good it would feel against my own. "Roger, I just _kissed_ you."

"Exactly!" His eyes were concentrating so solely on me that I flushed, more than I already was. "Straight guys don't go around kissing other guys."

"Straight…" He trailed off, eyes glazing slightly before a light bulb lit up in his head. His achievement was short-lived before he looked confused again. "I'm not straight!"

That threw me a little bit. "_Huh_?"

"I'm gay." He announced it as if he was talking to someone with perfectly working vision who had commented on his supposed jet green eyes. Like Edilio being gay was the most obvious thing in the world.

Like I was an idiot. "You are?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I _kissed_ you, Roger. And I've been flirting with you since I saw your look of horror at the heteros on the front door downstairs."

"Flirting?" I really wasn't going to be running out of intelligent responses anytime soon.

"I called you _beautiful_." He stressed the word with eyes still steady on me. The neckline of my t-shirt felt too tight. It was like he was complimenting me again but this time I knew there was no awful intent. Edilio was good, maybe a tad blind but good. "What straight guy calls another guy beautiful?"

I looked away. He laughed softly but it died quickly. He cleared his throat and continued, "But then I heard you say that you roomed with Quinn and- well, I don't know. You freaked out when I called you beautiful so I guessed it was a pretty straight guy reaction."

I didn't bother to point out that he kissed me thinking I was straight.

"I freaked out because I thought a straight guy was calling me beautiful."

He tilted his head that said _understandable_.

I whispered my next words to my boots. "And because it's you."

When I dared to peek at Edilio through my lashes, his expression was soft.

"You're beautiful," I said because it was safe to say so now and it was true.

His gentle smile turned up into a grin. The limited light made it hard to see but I was sure that his cheeks were pink too. "Thank you, Artful Roger. I'll accept that compliment because you're an artist and you look like a bad liar."

"How can someone look like a bad liar?" He was right. I preferred evading the truth, if anything. College was the first time I had solidly lied for so long. There were only so many questions you can avoid living under the same roof as Quinn Gaither.

Edilio's other hand that wasn't on my arm was now on my thigh. My palms were too close to sweating unattractively. He smiled. "Like that. You're so innocent."

"I've painted more naked ladies than I'm willing to admit." I winced at the memories.

"How about painting me naked instead?" He grinned as I flushed and stuttered then took pity on me by squeezing my leg even though I hardly thought of that as pity. Every touch made my nerve ends conscious, every skin cell alive. I didn't want to paint, for the first time in my life. There was so much else I could do with Edilio's naked body.

The thought shocked me. I swallowed and realised he was right. I was innocent.

I ignored his question and coughed awkwardly.

Edilio stared up at the ceiling. "So… we've established that we're both gay. What now?"

"How about you start by telling me why you kissed me?"

He grimaced but didn't look surprised by the question. "Because I wanted to?"

"How can you sound so sure of yourself when asking a question?"

His eyes were closed but he opened one to look at me. "I'm a juxtaposition. Oxymoron. Walking contradiction."

"All I heard in that one was moron," I muttered.

He opened both eyes and tilted his head like he was observing me but all I saw was him looking at my lips. "I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to hear innocence in your breath falls and desire in your heartbeat. I wanted to make an art of you, Artful Roger." He lowered his voice. "I still do."

"How-" I swallowed, hard. "How long have you been practicing those lines?"

Edilio smiled and he was beautiful and deadly. "Since you asked me about the back door."

"That…" I shook my head. "It wasn't meant to be some sort of sexual innuendo."

"No takesies backesies." He said that in such a serious tone, with such a serious face, that I couldn't help but laugh. And then I stopped because he was looking at me again, as if I had said something amazing or done something astonishing. "Keep laughing."

Instead, I pulled at the sleeves of my jacket to cover my hands. "I have a question."

"Ask away."

"Are you" – I looked at him properly because there were some things that deserved eye contact – "out of the closet? Ya know?"

Edilio smiled and it was sad. "My closet is at home. Here, I'm out. Free."

He didn't ask me and I don't think he needed to. I was like a bird with clipped wings. It felt sad to think of Edilio flying away from me but the saddest things made art. Art was my freedom.

He looked down at his phone as he spoke. "You know, that's why I was confused by your confusion. I'm not wearing some sort of neon sign revealing my sexuality but you room with Quinn."

"Quinn knows?"

Edilio nodded. I asked, "What? So you think me and Quinn have sleepovers to talk about his gay best friend?"

Something in my question bugged Edilio. "First of all, I'm no one's gay best friend. I'm gay. And I have best friends. That's it. And second, no. I thought he would have mentioned it but… figures."

There it was again – the subtle shift in tone that revealed that Edilio was unhappy with Quinn.

This time I just looked at Edilio. It was enough.

He sighed and I feared his next words.

"Sometimes you have to trust people that give you no reason to trust them, in hope they'll find that reason." He sighed. "He's always been the type of guy to abide to stereotypes. When he found out, he wasn't so…"

"Understanding?" I offered.

"Open," Edilio corrected. "It was wrong of me to judge you on his wrongs, just because you share a living space you have no choice to. But we go by what we know and all I know is his bad attitude. Like it had never occurred to him that the Honduran refugee from the religious family that lived in a beat-up caravan that beat his dumb ass in baseball on Sundays and football Tuesday to Thursday could love something at all. Like all I knew was to clean toilets with toothbrushes and hide my family illegally. Like his privilege over me made it more likely for him to suck a dick than me."

Bitterness made his words soft, angry. He talked like he was trying not to raise his voice to something medium, in fear that it would turn to shouting. He didn't look at me.

I reached out and touched his face. He turned his face to me and leaned his cheek against my palm. It would have been intimate if we weren't two strangers locked into a party we never wanted to be at in the first place.

And then I couldn't think because one of us must have leant forward or maybe both of us did and we were kissing. It was different this time. Like he wanted comfort and I wanted to give it to him. But it was honest, without confusion, without hesitation. Edilio kissed like he wanted it, wanted me, and I wanted to do nothing but comply.

He opened his mouth against mine and nothing mattered. My closet and Quinn's impending judgement didn't matter. Edilio's past and his pain did not matter. It felt like Edilio's free wings – damaged as they were – were around me.

Edilio's arms pulled me close. His tongue was gentle, an invitation, but I wanted more. Insistently, I held his face tighter, fingers seeking refuse in his soft hair, and I didn't realise I was leaning into him until he pulled me onto him.

It had been so long since I'd been kissed but that wasn't it. I wasn't feeling desire out of desperation for sex. I was feeling desire out of desperation for _him_.

And he kissed well. He kissed like he did it often (which I didn't want to think about.) He kissed hard and heavy, with a mouth that made bruises and a tongue that made insanity. He wasn't kissing you but making love to your mouth. He wasn't touching you but freeing you.

My jacket and shirt were off and his was pulled up to reveal the solid planes of his chest when we paused for breath. My hands shook as I struggled with taking it off completely, partly because I was getting distracted by a chest that was clearly worked on at the campus gym some nights but mostly because I was aware of where this was going. I wasn't an idiot and I was sitting on his erection. Stupidly, I wondered if it felt more good than bad.

He caught my hands until I looked at him. He was so close I could see the gold in his eyes and his eyelashes, which were beautiful which I never thought eyelashes could even be. He was so gentle now that it was hard to think that seconds before, his tongue was practically fucking my mouth.

"Is this okay?" he whispered. Nothing else. Just that.

I nodded but it wasn't. A one night stand at a party with a boy that I wanted more than for a few hours was not okay. But it was all I had.

This time, I kissed him, gently. That was all the encouragement he needed.

Awkwardly, he tipped me off my lap and onto the bed. I guess he didn't care about who had sex in it when we were about to. I had a lot of things to say, things drilled into me in sex ed classes at school and my own insecurities, but he was kissing me and I couldn't think about condoms or the fact that I was about to give my virginity to someone I met at a frat party. Maybe it was better if I didn't think or I'd hate myself even more.

This time, he was sat on me (it was uncomfortable but it made me even harder, if that was possible) and he pulled off his t-shirt himself. I lifted my hands to touch him but he touched me, pressing his fingers to my chest just as he had held me when we first kissed. Edilio seemed more afraid of me running than I was of me running. His hair tickled my cheeks as he kissed my mouth, my face and my neck.

Eventually, staying quiet wasn't an option. Edilio bit my neck, not hard enough to hurt but enough to graze, to make me feel something. It was a distraction, I suppose, because I was preoccupied with whimpering into my pillow to hear the zipper of my jeans go down. It wasn't until he touched me, underwear still on, that I realised that Edilio Escobar had his hands down my pants.

I almost jolted up but the hands on my chest were still firm. I met his eyes and I couldn't stop from feeling slightly panicked. I forgot to mention to Edilio that I wasn't beautiful naked.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured. "We can stop."

"No," I said but it sounded like a moan.

I saw him swallow and I reminded myself that he had to want me to initiate this. I reminded myself that it was too dark for him to pick up to many imperfections. I reminded myself that it was only one night.

It could only be for one night.

Maybe I would have pulled back then but I didn't need to.

We both stilled when we heard footsteps and loud voices. Edilio swore and, if there had been no interruption, I would have let him do anything to me, just to hear him say, "Fuck," again and again and again.

"Probably drunks looking for a room," he said, eyes on the door. "Wait it out."

I didn't reply but the voices were closer now. Edilio's face closed off with recognition. He climbed off me and picked up our shirts. He threw me mine without looking and I told myself not to take it personally. I wondered if he was as free as he said he was.

"Edilio, man? You still in there?" Sam Temple. It wasn't hard to recognise the voice of one of the most popular guys on campus. It was pretty easy to hate his voice right now though.

"Yeah," Edilio called back, fully clothed and only slightly ruffled. He looked back once to see me back to how I was when I entered this room, except my face felt stained and my lips were probably bruised. I prayed that it was too dark for anyone to see bite marks. "Fancy letting us out of here?"

"Us?" A female voice. _Great_. _These hickeys may as well be glow in the dark_.

Edilio stared at me as he spoke and his eyes revealed nothing, all traces of laughter or desire gone, as if they'd never existed. "Just a kid who wanted to get out of here. No big deal. You ruined his night, Sam."

"I didn't lock the door!" But Sam was unlocking it now.

I pulled my jacket closer around me but I didn't have to worry. The message was clear in Edilio's tone, if not his words. What had just happened meant nothing.

Quinn called me a loser for ditching the party early the next day. And I was.


End file.
